Primes and Protectors
by NKfloofiepoof
Summary: G1 - Onslaught reflects on himself, his comrades, and the war itself while playing footsie. Written for ultharkitty in the Dreamwidth Transformers Fic Exchange 2012.


**A/N #1:** First off, I'm uploading this partly because I haven't uploaded shit here in forever but mostly to make sure all my watchers know, if you haven't already seen from my profile, that **I will no longer be publishing regularly here, if at all, anymore.** 's war against formatting and punctuation has hit my annoyance button too many times now. I have moved to AO3 (archiveofourown users / NKfloofiepoof ). Remove spaces, of course. I've posted a few new things there that I have not posted here. **Please follow me there instead.** If you don't have an AO3 account or don't want to make one to follow me, you can follow my writing LiveJournal (deceptikitty . livejournal . com), my DeviantArt (nkfloofiepoof), or my y!Gallery (also nkfloofiepoof). Deceptikitty on LJ will have everything AO3 does - the other two will be more sporadically updated.

**A/N #2:** This was written for Ultharkitty in the Dreamwidth Transformers Fic Exchange last month. I didn't get a specific prompt, but Ultharkitty did give a preference to Soundwave, and I knew she liked the Combaticons, so I figured I'd see where Onslaught would take me. I'd never written him before, so it was a welcome challenge getting into his head. I blanked on why they'd get together, though, until I came up with what basically amounts to the bastard lovechild of _Risk_ and _Chess_. I'm now very, very fond of it.

The game _Primes and Protectors_ is my brainchild. I can't imagine that anyone would _want_ to use it but me, but if anyone does, please just make sure you give me credit and please let me know about it.

**Warning:** Vaguely, blink-and-you'll-miss-it implied sticky.

* * *

The violet corridors of the Nemesis II were silent save for the rhythmic footfalls of mechs on their way to or from their duties or private quarters. This late in the duty shift, most did not have the energy to banter with one another, and those who were on their way to their obligations knew better than to provoke their tired comrades with even simple conversation. Decepticons passed each other in silence with only an occasional nod or grunt to acknowledge one another. It was a routine all Decepticons had settled into for the duration of their stay on Earth. As new recruits were added either from Cybertron or other outposts, they quickly learned the unspoken rule: no matter where someone was headed, no matter who he was, he was not to be bothered during the last duty shift of the orn except by Megatron himself.

It was because of this unspoken rule that Onslaught was able to make his way to his destination completely unhindered even as he passed the corridor to the quarters he shared with the other Combaticons and continued toward the hallway leading to the officers' quarters. It was not close to the other residential sectors, creating a suitable barrier between the officers and the "grunts" in order to discourage anyone tempted to bother his superiors. Discouragement was not truly _necessary_ given the surly attitudes of two of the three officers. Most of their subordinates only addressed them when absolutely necessary as a result, but the distance was worked into the ship's design, regardless.

Onslaught paused at the first doorway of the officers' corridor and looked down the remaining expanse of hallway. Two of the three doors were directly across from one another - one before him and one behind as he faced the one he wanted. The third door marked the end of the hallway, but passage to it was blocked by a thick barrier, a testament to their great leader's paranoia. The barrier would only open for Megatron by way of electronic transmission - after all, keypads could be hacked or destroyed. Onslaught supposed he could not blame Megatron _too_ much. Every Decepticon knew Megatron truly trusted no one but himself, least of all his treacherous second in command just one door down. Truthfully, Onslaught would not have been surprised if, given the choice, Starscream had set himself up at the end of his own hallway behind a nearly identical barrier.

Fortunately, neither paranoid mech was who Onslaught intended to see. The Combaticon commander reached up to the keypad next to his intended destination and chimed his presence to the officer inside. The response was prompt, as usual, and the door opened to allow him.

"Onslaught: late," he was chided as he entered. Despite the mechanical monotone which gave nearly everything Soundwave said the same inflection, Onslaught had learned how to read the minute shifts and heard the barely-there tease.

"No," he responded in the same bland tone, "you're just set up ahead of schedule." Onslaught cast his gaze over the room before him. It was immaculate, as usual - and bare. It was easy to tell which section of the quarters were Soundwave's only and which was claimed by the cassettes. The berth, the floor around it, and the wall it connected to were all neat, clean, and orderly as was the desk near the berth. The opposite wall was a miniature war zone befitting the miniature mechs who shared the quarters. There was a small vidscreen, a few holes in the walls which, Onslaught supposed, served as perches for the avian cassettes, a large cushion in the corner with a Ravage-shaped dent worn into it, and some sort of cushioned, human-made seat which had clearly seen better days, likely because neither Rumble nor Frenzy were the size or weight it was intended to hold, especially if they both sat on it regularly.

Speaking of whom-

"Cassettes: occupied for remainder of orn," Soundwave answered before Onslaught could ask. Before, the Combaticon commander would have worried the third in command was using his telepathy, an ability which disturbed and unnerved even the bravest Decepticons simply because no one understood it. Only Soundwave knew his true capabilities and understood his limits and how his unique ability worked, and Onslaught suspected the blue mech was deliberately vague about his own boundaries to encourage unrest and paranoia. Onslaught was still unnerved by it, but their meetings had been established long enough that Onslaught felt Soundwave would keep to their agreement. If Soundwave had broken faith and not kept his unique ability to himself, Onslaught had never discovered it. Soundwave answered unasked questions simply because he knew Onslaught's typical concerns by now.

"Good," the Combaticon commander said simply and stepped further into the room.

The central area of Soundwave's quarters between his section and the cassettes' section was an interesting mix of chaos and order. Sometimes the cassettes' random acquisitions managed to escape to Soundwave's side, and sometimes Soundwave managed to clean well into theirs. The dichotomy never ceased to be both jarring and fascinating, and Onslaught sometimes spent a few nanokliks looking to see what new junk the cassettes had acquired before he concentrated on the area just off to the side within Soundwave's "territory".

Soundwave was already seated with a second seat and a table set up in front of him. On the small table was the main reason Onslaught was here: a very old but very well-kept copy of Primes and Protectors. It was an old Cybertronian game, one which most of their kind hardly remembered anymore. When the Golden Age reached its end and the Great War began, trivialities such as simple games were forgotten and crushed underfoot as city after city was torn asunder by battle. The few sources of entertainment which persisted through the war, passed around and kept on-hand in rec rooms, bunkers, and individuals' quarters alike, were usually holovids or games which played quickly and did not involve much in the way of thought. Even those games were usually holographic for ease of copying and ensuring their survival.

Soundwave's set of Primes and Protectors, however, was an immaculate, so rare as to be legendary, _physical_ copy. The multi-tiered board was carved of Praxan crystal and set into a polished black base which housed the circuitry necessary to color the different sections. The molded figurines were hand-painted and carefully studded with delicately cut slivers of crystal for accent. Even during the last vorns of the Golden Age, physical copies of games were rare - after all, hologram projectors took up much less space and were far more portable - and after the war began, Onslaught had always assumed such things were an extinct commodity. That Soundwave had managed to keep such a stunning, hand-crafted set throughout the countless vorns of the war was a feat in itself - that he was able to save it from destruction throughout the war and his many vorns of stasis after crashing on Earth was a miracle from Primus himself.

Of course, it was not unscathed - Onslaught would have begun to question his own sanity if so. He had inspected the set thoroughly over their Earthen years of playing, and he had easily found sections on the figurines where Soundwave had reattached crystals or touched up the paint. The multi-tiered board was in better shape if only because Praxan crystal was very hard to damage in the first place, bearing only minor scuffs from usage and a few nicks on the edges and corners with mysterious origins - though, if Onslaught was to wager a guess, the origin of the scratches was likely as simple as being dropped in the container throughout its long life.

Had the war not happened or at least ended before Cybertronian society had been so thoroughly destroyed, Onslaught knew the set would be worth a fortune. Now, it was only worth anything to those civilized and nostalgic enough to appreciate its beauty. On the Nemesis II, that numbered a grand total of two mechs - those currently in the room.

Onslaught made himself as comfortable as he could in a seat which was not meant to hold a mech of his shape or girth. Despite his rank, Soundwave's quarters were not exactly spacious, and keeping a chair _intended_ for a mech of Onslaught's frame type would take up too much room. Soundwave was not small either, but his shape was less cumbersome, so both seats in the room were shaped to accommodate him. Onslaught was accustomed to it by now and made no complaints as he settled and looked over the board.

Primes and Protectors was a game of intense strategy, and it could take weeks to complete a single match even if the players had all the time in the galaxy to play. Since neither mech had such luxury, this match had been ongoing for the last Earth year. When one or both of them reached an end to his off-duty time, was called away by various obligations from Megatron's bellowing or an emergency raid, or simply was too tired to continue, Soundwave packed the game away again, and they made arrangements to resume the next time their off-time coincided. Soundwave always remembered the way the pieces were arranged, and he always had it set up to resume when Onslaught arrived. If their previous session ended on Soundwave's turn, he waited until Onslaught arrived to make his move so the Combaticon commander could witness and challenge it if necessary. If the session ended on Onslaught's turn, he was able to plot his next move in the time it took for them to be able to meet again.

As such, Onslaught only had to look over the board long enough to ensure Soundwave had set it correctly - an unfounded concern but one of which he made certain every session, regardless - and then reached up to move his Lord Protector down to the next tier. The gold, silver, and crystalline figurine of the Matrix stood gleaming in the center of the board, untouched as he and Soundwave moved their pieces in a calm, strategic battle.

The game's theme was simple. And ironic. Its irony was an endless source of amusement for Onslaught - it was almost as if the mechs who first created the game foresaw how the Golden Age would end. He and Soundwave controlled two separate factions, both vying for possession of the Matrix of Leadership. Each player had his Prime, his Lord Protector, his aerial squadron, his special operations division, his scouts, and his medical contingent, all fighting to clear the way for the Prime to reach the center of the board and claim the Matrix. Each piece had specific ways it could move and special abilities it could unleash when destroying another. The board itself was also a part of the strategy - certain tiers and sectors were claimed and defended, possibly lain with traps by its defending faction's special operations division, and could be usurped by the opposing faction. Thus far, despite how long this game had run already, Onslaught had managed to remove two pieces from Soundwave's faction at the loss of only one of his own, but he knew one of Soundwave's two Medics was working to restore one of his lost pieces. It was truly a surreal experience to play a game which could map out the course of the Great War and ponder if the end, when one player or the other finally moved his Prime to the Matrix and won, if the end might be how their own war would end some orn.

The fact that Soundwave's board was made of _Praxan_ crystal made it all the more impressive. The simple computer set in the polished base could have easily worked with a board made of ordinary crystal or even glass, lighting up the different tiers based on whether or not it was claimed and which one in addition to which sectors had been trapped or sabotaged, but Praxan crystal _glowed_. As Onslaught moved his Lord Protector down a tier and claimed it for his faction, the tier shifted from being translucent white to a softly glowing orange, his chosen color. By its nature, Praxan crystal was capable of shining any color imaginable, and the computer in the board enabled the players to choose their own colors to represent their factions.

Onslaught was amused by the fact that neither one of them ever chose purple or red. Neither commented on it, but it was true, regardless.

With his move made, Onslaught settled back into his chair and watched Soundwave contemplate his next action. He once thought it was chance, plain and simple, which led to his discovery of the communications officer's rare possession, but over their long games, Onslaught now knew chance had nothing to do with it. He remembered the first session vividly - he needed a new communications channel set up for his team, and, of course, all new channels had to be coded, encrypted, and tested by Soundwave. It was imperative that the channel was activated as soon as possible, and all that orn, Soundwave had claimed to be busy, brushing off Onslaught in favor of other duties. By the end of the orn, Onslaught had been furious and about to code and encrypt it himself when he received a summons from the blue mech.

_Opportunity for encryption: now,_ ) Soundwave had told him over a channel reserved for the command staff and team leaders such as himself, Scrapper, and Motormaster. ( _Meet in personal quarters: one breem._ )

That Soundwave had prompted - no, _invited_ - Onslaught to his personal quarters for something that was strictly business had been suspicious at the time, and years later, the Combaticon now knew it had simply been an elaborate ruse to arouse his curiosity. And it worked. Onslaught had arrived with the intention of getting in and out as quickly as possible with the channel he had been trying to get activated all orn. He ended up staying much longer.

When he arrived, Soundwave was seated comfortably at the table with Primes and Protectors fully set up, facing the doorway to ensure Onslaught saw both him and the game. Onslaught usually prided himself in being fairly unflappable, but the rare, beautifully crafted game set up perfectly before his visor gave him pause, and he could not resist asking about it as Soundwave calmly coded the communications channel. Soundwave claimed he sometimes played against his cassettes but usually only against himself as he doubted anyone aboard the ship would be interested in such a strategic game. Onslaught did not miss the subtle shift in the light of Soundwave's visor as the blue mech canted his gaze up to him.

Really, the only way the invitation could have been _any_ more blatant would have been if Soundwave had outright _asked_, "Do you want to play?", and Onslaught could not resist. Such an opportunity to exercise his strategic mind was rare - after their rebellion on Cybertron, Megatron did not trust any of the Combaticons, least of all Onslaught as the "brain" of the group, and as such, Onslaught was only involved in strategic planning and tactics when Megatron had no choice but to include him. For the most part, he was left to plot for his own team whether they were part of a larger battle plan or on their own. It was stagnating and frustrating. Perhaps that was why Soundwave extended the invitation - perhaps he sensed Onslaught's fury with being unable to use his mind as he wished. Perhaps it was all an elaborate test to try to show how useful the Combaticon could be if given a chance.

Most likely, Soundwave just really wanted someone to play with.

Their games had been silent at first; they coordinated their off-time, Onslaught arrived, they ate their rations, and they played until someone had to be on-duty, needed to recharge, or had a headache. They spoke with one another very little during the first game. It was when that first game ended with Soundwave as the victor - only a few weeks in, much to Onslaught's embarrassment, as he was not quite familiar with the rules yet - that Onslaught, after grumbling "Two out of three", bothered to ask why Soundwave's cassettes were never there when he was. The answer was a blank stare followed by a rhetorical question in Soundwave-ese if Onslaught _wanted_ to deal with the birds fighting over who got which hole in the wall, Rumble and Frenzy's loud, explosive video games, Ravage fighting with them over who got the fluffier cushions, or Ratbat eating components of the vidscreen so Rumble and Frenzy were unable to play said video games.

The imagery combined with the completely bland way Soundwave said it - even more bland than he normally was - had made Onslaught laugh - not a snicker or half-sparked chuckle but a true, hearty _laugh_. He could not clearly remember the last time he had truly laughed before that point, and while he was not quite willing to believe his laughter had been what fully prompted him to break the silence of their sessions, Onslaught admitted it helped.

The cassettes were a very easy subject with Soundwave - the communications officer was always ready to talk or complain about them, and some of the anecdotes he relayed to Onslaught were amusing to say the least. Soundwave's openness prompted Onslaught's, and the two easily shifted from silence to sometimes using their time together to vent about the mechs they had to work with on a regular basis. Onslaught relayed anecdotes and tales - amusing and infuriating - regarding his own teammates. There was an unspoken rule: neither brought up Starscream or Megatron. Thundercracker and Skywarp were fair game as was nearly anyone else the two wanted to complain or share an amusing tale about, but during their games, the two highest ranking officers did not exist, and that was fine with Onslaught.

So, for the last few Earthen years, they met, they talked, and they played. They were on their third game, and the score was even. Soundwave won the first and Onslaught the second. So far, the third was tipped in Onslaught's favor, but he knew that could change at any time - that was the nature of Primes and Protectors. A mech could win with just the Prime left on the board as long as he was able to get it to the Matrix first - it was not unlikely. The Prime had the highest defenses of any piece and, as a result, was almost impossible to eliminate without a full-out attack from multiple pieces at once. This game had already lasted over a year with very little progress due to poor timing on all fronts; it had been difficult to coordinate off-time lately, so the game may well have continued another year before someone could finally win.

If so, that was fine with Onslaught. He enjoyed it, and despite Soundwave's stoic exterior, he knew Soundwave enjoyed it too. If Onslaught won, it would be up to Soundwave if he wished their sessions to continue, though the Combaticon was all but certain they would. If Soundwave was the victor, he was already prepared to demand, "Three out of five."

As Onslaught mused, he knew he was not imagining the subtle brush of Soundwave's foot against his own. Immediately, the Combaticon's gaze fell back to the board and searched for holes in his defense. His Lord Protector was in position and unthreatened, his aerial squadron was scheduled to engage Soundwave's in two more moves provided the game played out right, his special operations contingent, while missing a member, was holding their sector well, his scouts were en route to claim another tier, and his two medics and Prime had not even come into play yet. If Soundwave was in line to gloat and claim a piece, Onslaught could not see from where the attack was to come.

He chanced a glance back to Soundwave and twitched. To the outside observer, Soundwave was stoic as ever, but after years of practice and conversation and observation, Onslaught could all but feel the amusement rolling off of the other mech in waves. The glitch was yanking his chain. Onslaught favored his companion with his best "Onslaught is not amused" glare - though, despite himself, he _was_ - and Soundwave only gave a minute twitch of his shoulders to show his held-in laughter before he reached up and moved his medic closer to the tier he needed to claim in order to revive one of his missing pieces.

The Combaticon was reasonably certain he knew which piece he was going to revive, and while having yet another saboteur in play and losing that tier to a medic would make things trickier, Soundwave's aerial squadron was the more pressing concern, so Onslaught studied the board to prepare his next move. It seemed like an easy decision - if he moved his air commander, he could engage Soundwave's in one more turn. Since Soundwave had only moved his medic, there was nothing in his way. However, Onslaught was not a renowned military genius - to all but Megatron, anyway - because he always chose the easy, obvious move. His orange gaze swept over the board, taking in each piece's position, its proximity to the others, and the legal moves he could make-

_There_ - a hole in Soundwave's defenses.

Deciding two could play the teasing game, Onslaught lifted a foot and brushed it against the inside edge of Soundwave's knee. He immediately appreciated the amusement behind the move as Soundwave's red gaze flew to the board in exactly the same way Onslaught's had earlier. The difference was Onslaught was not kidding, and Soundwave knew it.

The Combaticon's foot moved further up Soundwave's leg to brush over his thigh as he reached forward and slowly, almost mockingly, jumped his air commander from its tier to its mirrored tier on the opposite side of the board and placed it behind Soundwave's Lord Protector. It was a perfectly legal move since he had moved to the tier of the same height and no more than two grids in, the maximum he could encroach when leaping the whole board which was a move unique to his aerial squadron. Unfortunately for Soundwave, his Lord Protector was _three_ grids in his tier, right next to Onslaught's threshold, and he had his back to Onslaught's side of the board. Had he been sideways or facing, they would have had to roll for the kill, but an attack from behind was instant death no matter the pieces involved. Even a scout could kill a Prime or Protector if he was behind him.

After checking and double-checking the legality of the move, Soundwave visibly deflated with a put-upon sigh and reached up to remove his Lord Protector from the board. Of course, Onslaught knew the piece would not be off the board for long. Soundwave was going to use his medic to claim its tier and turn it into a clinic with the next turn, so the Lord Protector would be out of play for two turns at most. Still, it gave Onslaught ample room to move in the rest of his aerial squadron to Soundwave's and engage, and as a result, it gave him plenty of opportunity to finally move his Prime into play.

However, that would come later. Currently, Onslaught's foot had moved up to brush the tip of his thickly armored boot over the polished buttons adorning Soundwave's waist. He had claimed one of Soundwave's soldiers - it was time to reap the reward.

That was another reason this game was going so slowly.

Somewhere near the beginning of their second game, they added a new rule. Onslaught was not entirely sure why it had started, how they had both agreed upon the rule without actually discussing it, or if, frankly, it was even a good idea. As Soundwave subtly pushed his waist against Onslaught's foot, the Combaticon commander decided that if it was a bad idea, it was a bit late now.

Onslaught had never been much for physical intimacy. Even before the war, it was rare that a mech turned his head for more than a second glance, and the few relations he had before and in the beginnings of the war were only to scratch an annoying itch and get it out of his system. This had not changed much despite the events which unfolded later - first the Decepticon Detention Center and later being forced to become a combiner with his team full of loose screws. The combiner coding was designed to make them desire intimacy with one another in order to strengthen their bond whether they wanted to or not, and sharing his mind and moods with four other mechs was bound to affect the fifth, but even then, Onslaught had found his proclivities had not swayed _too_ much.

And that made it all the stranger that he eased into the new game rule so readily. Soundwave had definitely been the instigator - he held absolutely no doubts there. While Onslaught could have easily turned to any of his teammates whenever he felt the need to be intimate with another mech, Soundwave likely only had one choice who would not look down on him or who might not feel Soundwave was taking advantage of his rank.

And, given who that one choice was, frankly? Onslaught would not have wanted to frag Megatron either.

Throughout their sessions of Primes and Protectors, there had been many opportunities for the two mechs to get a feel for one another, understand the way one another worked and thought, develop an idea as to what the other wanted, what would be welcome, and what would be deemed offensive. Soundwave had started slowly near the end of their second game to "test the waters", so to speak. As the game progressed and Soundwave claimed piece after piece from Onslaught's faction, the Combaticon noticed more and more movement under the table. It seemed innocent enough at first - a seemingly accidental brush of one foot against his own, an up-and-down bob of Soundwave's foot which ended up rubbing against Onslaught's leg in a supposedly innocent manner - the subtle gestures continued for ten piece claims, but Onslaught would have been stupid to not put the actions together after the tenth. There was no way Soundwave's foot ended up in his lap by _accident_.

On some level, he thought he probably should have been offended or disturbed or maybe like Soundwave was taking advantage of him. Instead, Onslaught was only amused. He did not comment on it, nor did he resist. In fact, when he next claimed one of Soundwave's game pieces, he began to match the cassette carrier tease for tease, and it escalated from there.

For a long time, they only touched and teased, always under the table and never actually speaking of it. It was just another part of the game and practically became a secondary game all its own. It was near the end of their second match that the teasing, intimate touches with each claimed game piece finally escalated to their logical conclusion. It had been growing more intense with each session, anyway - more intimate touches, rubbing harder and in more sensitive places, "revenge" for a particularly cunning move - and more than once, their time had ended with one or both struggling to cool himself before he had to face mechs outside the privacy of Soundwave's quarters. Finally, though, the tension reached a crescendo after Onslaught had a particularly good orn and managed to claim four of Soundwave's game pieces in one session.

Onslaught was still not quite sure who had grabbed whom first, who had dragged whom to the berth first. He would not have been surprised if, again, Soundwave was the instigator. He did have a fairly vivid memory of Soundwave grabbing him by one of his gun barrels and hoisting him out of his seat, but after that, the first time was a blur in his memory of hands and smooth, blue and white plating and slick heat enveloping him and harmonic, almost musical cries that echoed through the room and made Onslaught's very circuits quiver and a climax intense enough to short out his visual feed.

That was the end of their game that orn despite the fact that they still had two full cycles left of off-time. The rest of their time was spent trying to match the intensity of the first. Onslaught had no complaints.

As the second game ended and moved into the third and every third or fourth session ended in a tumble to the berth or the floor, Onslaught found himself wondering what was different. Why was it so easy to bury himself in the delicious heat between Soundwave's legs or to allow the cassette carrier's thickness penetrate his own when Onslaught could only bring himself to share such intimacy with his own teammates when the combiner code compelled him to do so? The answer came easily enough: none of the others appealed to him in any way, mentally or physically.

Truthfully, he was not _physically_ attracted to Soundwave, either. Simply looking at him brought no charge to Onslaught's systems - no one did. It was Soundwave's mind, Onslaught finally realized, which attracted him. The cassette carrier was not a military genius like Onslaught, but he was still brilliant in his own way. It showed in his swift ascension in the ranks and his ability to maintain his position of third in command, and it also showed in their games. The first game ended quickly simply because Onslaught had still been mostly unfamiliar with the set and the rules, but the second had been a true test of skill, and he had witnessed for himself just how sharp Soundwave's mind was. When the communications officer plotted his moves well or intercepted Onslaught's in a way the Combaticon had not anticipated, it sent a surge through Onslaught's circuits.

When Onslaught thought of his team, however...Swindle was self-centered and greedy - Onslaught would have sooner pulled off the sniveling mech's plating and turned it into a hat than gone to berth with him for any reason but the combiner coding's coercion. Vortex was insane and sadistic - if Onslaught did not hold rank over him, he was quite sure Vortex would break out his interrogation tools and torture implements when they were forced together. Brawl was loyal but too simple-minded - he made a good soldier but not an appealing berth partner. Blast Off was aloof and thought himself higher than his entire team - really, he had the same problem Onslaught did. No one appealed to him, so he, too, did not bother with them unless the combiner code forced him.

No, none of them were appealing in the least, but Soundwave's quick wit and sharp mind more than made up for their lack. They both knew and understood it was purely physical, and that was fine with Onslaught if still very strange to him. It kept him from having to scratch his proverbial itch with his teammates as often as he used to, and...well, he did not know exactly what Soundwave got out of it, nor did he care as long as there were no complaints on either end. Some orns, one of them was adverse to anything more than playing the game, and that, too, was fine - all one had to do was nudge aside the other's foot when a piece was claimed rather than allowing his touch, and the point was clear: no interfacing this time.

It still amazed Onslaught that they had come to such an easy dynamic and understood all the rules of this seemingly complicated engagement without a single word. He was connected in programming and spark to the other Combaticons, and they still did not communicate so easily. He, again, attributed that to the difference in personalities: Soundwave's calm, intellectual, calculating personality versus the other Combaticons volatility and vanity. There was truly no comparison.

His foot still pressed against Soundwave's buttons, Onslaught watched as the cassette carrier managed to roll his hips into the touch and move his medic to claim its tier at the same time. He pressed the small switch on his side of the board to make the claimed tier glow blue, his chosen color. He still needed to wait until his next turn to revive his Lord Protector which gave Onslaught ample opportunity to do even further damage to Soundwave's ranks. Onslaught pressed his foot more firmly against Soundwave and moved the rest of his aerial squadron against the other mech's, and as he rolled for damage and claimed Soundwave's air commander, and as Soundwave shifted from rocking into his foot to bucking against it, Onslaught knew they would not make much more progress on their game tonight either.

And that was fine with him.

* * *

**A/N #3:** Again, please follow me at AO3, LiveJournal, DeviantArt, or y!Gallery instead. This is very likely the last time I will update here for quite a while, if ever again.


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